


To This I Know,

by nastyworld



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Domestic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Tony Stark, i imagined this as tobey peter but do u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 20:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19483366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastyworld/pseuds/nastyworld
Summary: Peter tried to hide it for so long. Tony figures everything out anyway.





	To This I Know,

**Author's Note:**

> repeating the same warnings/advisories: slight au (jarvis isn’t vision, post endgame, no tony death, among other stuff) || domestic abuse, side flash/peter, underage & 21 y/o peter.

It was a really cold night, and wet too. The webs were sticking by mere luck as he swung in the air, clothes drenched. His plastered hair flew against his eyes then slicked back with every passionate swing and jump, and few whimpers left him when his crying felt like it was going to start up again.

It hurt. A lot. And he wanted to scream.

His scuffed New Balance screeched as he landed on the roof of the Avengers tower, and he breathed hard, pink lips and hard wet eyes. Rain kept thudding down on him, water rivulets streaming down his face and thoroughly soaking him to the bone. Peter bit his lip. He was eyeing the glass door leading him one of the meeting rooms. He knew it was open before he limped in, water decorating the floor under him.

Warmth fell on him with the smell of past coffee and machinery.

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes shuttering.

“Peter Parker,” Jarvis spoke.

Peter had been expecting that too.

“Hi—hello.”

“Have you come after a night of patrolling? Mr. Stark is currently asleep and will not wake until six. Shall I wake him?”

Peter shook his head, wet fringe shaking and droplets flew everywhere. “I’m good, Jarvis. No need, like at all, cause—I mean, I just wanted to crash here tonight. If that’s cool.”

“Of course. Mr. Stark has your room for you here always.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Where was it again? Its been—

“It is on the floor below this one. You will find it on the left when you exit the elevator.”

Peter smiled tightly, looking above himself. “Are you sure Mr. Stark doesn’t have a mind reading protocol attuned in your system?”

“If he did, I cannot be disposed to say.”

“Course.”

Peter huffed an amused breath before landing his eyes on the large white meeting table in front of him. He hadn’t been here in more than a few months. Hm, been that long. Peter stared at it some more.

_“You fucking stupid bitch, I swear to God—I don’t want to even want you anymore, do you realize that?”_

_“If you don’t want me anymore, why follow me around, I—I can’t even go to a coffee shop—”_

_“At one in the morning? You fucking slut, I’m not stupid, alright?”_

He blinked. A hot tear hit his cheek, quickly mixing with the rain water and Peter inhaled, wiping it away with hurry. The action only made him wince.

“It seems you need some medical attention, Mr. Parker.”

“Uh—no,” he started walking to the direction of the elevator, “I’m good. I’ll be okay. Patrolling tonight kinda sucked, but y’know, fast healing helps and stuff. ”

“Those do not appear to be patrolling wounds.” Was all Jarvis said when Peter got in, elevator music distant.

Peter ignored him though, smiling in false pretense. A dribble of blood and mucus slid down his nose.

_ // _

Peter didn’t fight him back, because what good would that do? He crossed his arms in defense, but Flash was good at landing punches. He had always been, since high school. Peter’s head banged on the wall as a heavy fist landed on his jaw—he was crying before it did. After that one hit, he felt silent. A hollowness replaced him forcefully as Flash wrenched his arms down, punching him square on his right eye.

A second later, a knee in his stomach. Peter’s wet, red eyes bulged and he fell to his knees but no sound of pain left him. Just a gasp, then a heave. Flash didn’t wait, landing him a kick right in the head. It turned black for a second.

“I cheat on you because I can, Parker. Fuck you—” A stomp on his back, “—fuck you, I don’t care, I’ll do it a-fucking-gain, because I know what you are. A fucking slut. Sucking my dick in the janitor’s closet after Bio. I’ll never forget that. Wanted it so bad, didn’t care where it was.” Flash’s hot breath was suddenly by his ear and Peter blinked blearily, a small croak of pain finally leaving him. He squinted at nothing—blood was getting in his eyes.

“So you know what I thought? Let me be with this little slut, see for how long I can pump my cock into you before you go running to the next dick. It was a fucking experiment, Parker. I had fun, shit, you got me fooled. Almost fell in love with your nice ass.”

“F—Flash,” Peter croaked. Pure alcohol was coming from Flash’s breath. “Please—”

Flash kicked his face again and Peter heard the crunch before he felt it. Then it got black again.

…And stayed that way for a bit.

_ // _

Peter shrugged off his clothes one by one, each with a wince and a grit of teeth. His swollen purple eyelid met him when he glanced at the mirror. He smiled sardonically at himself.

_You’re so weak and stupid. You know that?_

He was down to his underwear and Peter saw already the blues and purples coloring him. He swallowed and looked away sharply.

From his wet denim skinny’s, a sharp buzz. He saw his phone’s faint fluorescence through his pocket and Peter shut his eyes, breathing through his nose. How much do you want to bet it’s him? He swiftly bent down, dug for it and pressed the home screen.

**iMessage : MJ**  
_**Dude, Flash just texted me you and him are done. What the hell happened? Your voicemail box is full by the way.** _

Peter shut his phone off and threw it to the bed. He didn’t want to deal with anything. Anyone. Whatever. He walked to the shower, a thud in his head telling him he had a headache.

“After you shower, Mr. Parker, I do advise medical attention. Your broken nose has already healed rapidly, however you do hold a concussion among lesser injuries—”

“That’s fine.” Peter cut him off sternly. He blinked at himself before clearing his throat. “Yes, Jarvis, that—that’s cool, we could do that after the shower. Just, um. Give me some time?”

“Understood.”

Peter pressed his lips together before shucking off his underwear and turning the hot spray of water.

_ // _

When Jarvis was done tending him, Peter slouched. His hair stayed in place this time (he gelled it up), and he sort of just sat there in generic pajamas. He couldn’t sleep, Jarvis advised him, but Peter knew that. His bare feet touched the floor, and he played with his hands, nimble fingers touching each other absently.

_“You know…every time I seen your ass in those gym shorts, I’d get the only boner,” Flash had whispered at him. Movies, first date. Peter was sitting on his lap, cheeks hot and pink. Junior year._

_“Stop.”_

_“I’m serious, Parker. And you’re so fucking cute to boot, shit.”_

_Flash stole a kiss from him and Peter’s had heart stopped for a second. Another one later, his whole body felt hot and Flash was pulling him close—_

“Mr. Parker. Would you like some coffee?”

Peter snapped his eyes at the ceiling. They were a little wet, but that was understatement for how he felt. His throat was burning.

“Wha—What time is it?”

“Six in the morning, sir.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Is Mr. Stark awake?”

“He is heading this way. He knows you are here.”

Peter stood up sharply, and just as he did, the door of his room slid open revealing a bored Tony Stark, already nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Kid, if this isn’t a surprise– not a bad one, lemme say first—”

He met Peter’s eyes and Peter was already trying to give him his most convincing smile.

“Mr. Stark, hey—”

Tony’s cup hit the floor.

_ // _

“What do you mean it’s _none_ of my business?”

Peter looked at anywhere but Tony. His nose was completely healed by now and the swelling on his eye had gone down some. They’d been only arguing, talking, for ten minutes.

“Mr. Stark, it was just patrol. I don’t understand why can’t _you_ understand that, and just…”

“What? Drop it?” Tony stared at him. “Excuse me, but can I ask again how stupid you think I am?”

Peter opened his mouth before shutting it completely. Tony was already shaking his head, hands in his pockets.

“No, answer me on that, and maybe then I can understand why the hell you’re protecting whoever you’re protecting.”

“I’m not protecting anyone—”

“Really!” Tony frowned at that, sarcastic. “I thought I made the very suit you patrol with, and hey, guess what— fun fact: It actually protects you from a beating. It’s its sole purpose, and regular-degular human beings beating you was also considered; it sort of includes what it was made for, kid.”

Peter knitted his brows, legs crossed. His swollen eyelid did no favors for him when he looked at Tony again.

“I just had a fight with someone. That’s all, Mr. Stark.” His voice broke at the someone. Tony titled his head slightly.

“Is this someone—would this someone be someone that I can guess?” Peter shook his head, eyes pleading and Tony breathed in at that, as if that was all the verification he needed.

“Okay.”

“Mr. Stark. I just—I don’t want to deal with anything anymore.”

Tony stared hard at him. “You won’t, kid. Not personally. Not in any way.” His voice was cool and crisp, and Peter licked his lips, suddenly nervous.

“Don’t do anything to him.” He whispered before he could stop it.

Tony’s eyes flicked past him to a window right behind Peter. It was still dark outside and not even a peak of sun glittered the sky. Peter reached out, touching his hand.

“Please. Just stay out of this.”

“No.”

Peter let out a breath of disbelief, expression torn. He squeezed Tony’s hand and swallowed deeply, eyes searching.

“And if I stop you?”

Tony looked back at him, trying to hide his wince. “You serious, kid?”

“I love him.”

Peter didn’t mean to say it. He was actually really private about his intimate life. Only MJ, Ned and May knew. Many people, including all the Avengers, didn’t know, and that he was in a relationship. Then again, Tony had a way of knowing everything about absolutely everyfuckingbody and Peter wasn’t excluded from that census. It’s why he wasn’t surprised when Tony visibly swallowed, eyes blinking before shooting his brows up in a confused sort of way.

“No, kid. You…you know you don’t.”

Of course, Tony knew everything.

“This is my fault. It’s my fault, and—and I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have pushed you away—”

A sound curled up from Peter’s throat, eyes already wide. “ _Fuck you_.”

“Peter—”

“This isn’t about you, Mr. Stark.”

“I know it isn’t, kid, I know what _it_ is about and that you’ve been trying to act like it hasn’t been for the past half hour.”

Peter’s face flickered with something like uncertainty and Tony shifted closer to him. His gaze was stormy, despite being gentle.

“It’s the kid you started going out with since I told you no?”

“No, it has nothing to do with him—”

Tony let out a humorless laugh. “I can’t believe it, you’re still protecting him—”

“He’s all I have!” Peter shouted hotly. A lone curl hung over his brow as his chest rose and fell, pink lips parted. “He’s the only one who accepted me—”

Tony lifted his chin, eyes daring for him to finish the sentence. Peter looked away from him immediately, almost wrenching away.

“Kid. You know that’s not remotely true. Like in the slightest.”

“Well, you’re not with me, are you, Mr. Stark? You’re with….with…”

“No one.”

“Doesn’t matter. You—you said you and me can never be a thing.”

“Kid, you were 16, coming onto me when I thought—”

Peter stood up sharply, not wanting to hear the rest. Impulsively, he pivoted away, trying to hurry out the room but Tony grabbed his wrist, “Pete—”, and Peter yanked it away, using his strength. He gave Tony a hard look, one eye somewhat still shut and purple.

“You _will_ stay away from Flash. You _will_ not mess with things in my life. I wanted you, I wanted you bad, but don’t ever, ever act like I used Flash to replace you, Mr. Stark.” Peter snarled bitterly.

_Don’t fucking say it, please._

Tony just looked at him. “Kid, I see all your patrols.”

_Fuck._

“You know I do, I mean—whenever I have some spare time and have nothing to absolutely do, and there’s always something— I watch them, and I watch them all. You talk a lot to yourself in them.”

Peter wanted to bolt.

“You say how guilty you feel lying to this guy, lying to him about where you go at night…he doesn’t know who you are, and you do it to protect him….and you also talk a lot…talk a lot about me.”

Peter looked at him warningly. “Don’t.”

“You say you miss me, and this other guy could never compare. How you and I would’ve been great if it weren’t for your damn age—”

Peter brought a hand to Tony’s chest, a sort of non-verbal plea for him to stop talking. Tony watched him with soft eyes and Peter let out a small breath.

“Well.” His voice shook. “I’m twenty-one now, Mr. Stark. What’s your excuse now?”

Tony tossed him a light smirk. It didn’t meet his eyes. “There is no excuse, kid. You were just off the market.”

Peter’s lips parted and he stared at Tony with wide eyes. Tony was looking down at his lips. “Do you know how hard it was? A sixteen year old, always talking to me with pretty pink lips, walking around in a skin-tight suit that I made for him? A fat, tight ass, sitting on my lap like nothing, while we tinkered in the lab, God, you knew what you were doing—”

Peter swallowed, looking away sharply and Tony grabbed at his wrist, gently, bringing his eyes back. He continued, eyes saying Look at me, and voice in a murmur, “You knew what you were doing to me, hugging me any time I did anything for you, letting me feel all of you through your suit—Pete, you remember that one night, at the lab? After we finished fixing up Jarvis’ bug—”

“You pushed me away.” Peter looked lost.

Tony leaned his head to the side. “What should I’ve done then, kid? Tell me. I had to stop it.”

_ // _

“Mr. Stark, I think Jarvis just had like, maybe a total meltdown or something? Overheated, that’s—yeah, there you go, that’s the word.”

“Kid, he can’t overheat.”

Peter looked at Tony with a teasing smile and Tony rolled his eyes, a chuckle at the back of your throat.

“Oh, you are incredibly annoying.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter mock gasped. “That really hurts my feelings, take it back.”

“I absolutely won’t, and I never take things back, ever.” Peter squinted amusedly and Tony pursed his lips at him. “Okay, point taken. Not needed though, kid. Didn’t help your case.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to help my case,” Peter shrugged. He swiveled around on the chair, tight black suit doning him like a sort of secret spy. Tony looked at him with a glance before looking away. Peter smiled shyly at that.

“You haven’t said anything all night, you know.”

“…’Bout what, kid.”

“Nick Fury made this whole stealth suit for me and you haven’t said anything about it. No customization options—uh, not that I’m asking for any, Mr. Stark— no suggestions on how you would upgrade it, or even like,” Peter searched for a word, “grievances.”

Tony arched a brow, an amused huff leaving him. Peter continued to look at him with a sort of waiting expression.

“Grievances?” Was all Tony said.

“Yeah, you know, like, you always got something to say, y’know?”

Tony raised both of his brows at that, playfully stunned, and Peter was already waving his hands, frantic. “Not like that, I didn’t mean it like that, I mean, like—”

“I know how you meant it, kid.” Tony was walking over now, black crewneck shirt shifting tightly over his torso. He didn’t miss Peter’s slow blink at it before meeting his eyes back again. “But again…not helping your case.”

Peter was gazing up at Tony now, and he could smell him—his everything. His pants were at his eye-level, right exactly at the zipper, and under that—Mr. Stark’s briefs—

Tony smirked down at him, dark brown eyes playful and Peter swallowed, smiling back nervously.

“The suit,” Tony muttered, “It looks good on you.”

Peter didn’t break their eye contact. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tony ruffled his hair then, as he always did when he was about to walk away from Peter—it was like a cue, a signal that this moment, whatever it had been, was over. But the kid grabbed his wrist, pulling it away and down, and Tony looked at him, confused until Peter brought the hand to his own lips, staring at Tony in a brave sort of shyness.

“Kid, what—”

Peter popped one finger in his mouth, tongue already licking and sliding it around it like a lollipop. Tony could only gape as Peter gave his tongue a good coating of saliva before sliding out of his lips.

“It won’t hurt, Mr. Stark.” He whispered, eyes glittering darkly and cheeks burnt. “I read online, I, um, watched videos, prepared myself and I—I wore this suit today… for you.”

Tony could only look at him brokenly. That was fucking hot, but— “Pete…this….wait, kid—”

Peter got up from the chair, palming Tony, God, when did he—when did that happen—and Peter fluttered his eyes, his cheeks growing darker by the second. “Mr. Stark, I—I—can we—”

Peter kissed him, eyes scrunched in a teenage first kiss kinda way and lips puckered so awkwardly, Tony could all but blink in slow disbelief. It didn’t stop Peter from then grabbing Tony’s hands and guiding them to his ass, to which the older man instantly grunted in approval, squeezing, palming—Peter gasped, and Tony mashed their lips, sliding a tongue in. Fuck, the kid even tasted sweet; like a mixture of starbursts and a caramel frappe—he couldn’t get a enough. Peter moaned in his mouth breathily, his hard dick jumping slightly against Tony’s thigh—

What the fuck was he doing?

Tony wretched himself away. And he stared, short of breath.

He saw Peter blink at him, his kiss-bruised lips glossy and eyelids heavy.

“M—Mr. Stark?” He whispered. “Did I….did I do something wrong?”

_ // _

Peter was watching Tony with only one eye fully open, the other still swollen but less purple.

“I think I should get some sleep.”

Tony opened his mouth but Jarvis beat him to it.

“It seems Mr. Parker’s concussion has fully healed, sir. It’s recommend for him to rest for a greater healing rate on his lasting injuries.”

Tony flexed his jaw as Peter shot his eyes to his toes, pointedly not looking at him.

“Yeah, that’s—I agree with you, Jarvis.” He moved away from Peter, heading to the door and not giving him another glance. “Peter.”

The kid looked up, eyes already wet.

“ _When_ I find out who he is, I can’t promise anything.”

And Peter already expected that too. 

_ // _

“Sir?”

“Peter mentioned in one of the logs that they went to the same Uni, run it up.”

Tony didn’t have to wait for more than a minute, the holograph of a roster scanning at speed and he was bathed in purple and deep magenta. And there, NYU and just starting a third fall semester: a picture of Flash Thompson. It was his school I.D. photo.

Tony narrowed his eyes, and nodded a head to Jarvis. “Current location. Get his carrier and find a tower, probably has some dumb encryption—we’ll delete his— _any_ photos of the kid. Contact info, saved passwords, probably shared a phone at some point.”

“Anything and all Peter Parker related content will be purged, sir.”

“Have it compiled and brought up on the screen. I want to see any kind of evidence so if I do kill the waste of space, it would be within reason for our justice system.”

“Of course.”

Tony breathed through this nose, watching Flash’s confident grin. Dark eyes, though, no depth.

Then: a rift.

It happened before he could even think to stop it. He was curling his fists one second, then a momentary zone out the next. Tony was gone, siphoning into a blank stare, distant.

Don’t do anything to him. 

_Peter’s warm gaze, his hand grazing Flash’s arm, then tugging him close. He was smiling, awkward, already leaning for a chaste kiss—_

I love him. 

_Flash naturally pulling him close, broad hands on his small waist, lips capturing Peter’s, and the kid titled his head, giving in naturally–_

He’s the only one who accepted me.

_—his slicked back curls disheveled in Flash’s fingers, and Peter’s pretty pink lips quirking up slightly in the kiss—_

I wanted you.

_—before abruptly letting out a sharp gasp, Flash was jerking his head away, expressionless. Peter’s face contorted, Flash now enraged—Peter not fighting back—_

I wanted you bad. 

_Flash stomping on him, drunk-eyed, malevolent, and Peter shaking, silently croaking, looking up right at as a foot headed toward his face—_

You said,

 _Peter’s smile earlier, dried blood under his nose. Dark eyes, no depth._ _“Mr. Stark, hey—”_

You said you and me can never be a thing, Mr. Stark.

“Sir.”

Tony snapped his head up. The hovering interface had changed, dancing him now in fluorescent blue and a window with a lone folder labeled ‘Peter’ greeted him. He swallowed, deep and uncertain.

“Your heart rate and body temperature has increased. May I recommend— ”

“I’m good. It’s fine, open it up.”

“Your PTSD has not been completely treated.” Jarvis sounded like he just noticed, but Tony knew he was just using the moment for his advantage. He grounded his jaw, careful eyed.

“And it never will be, Jarvis. I don’t have time for this, the kid needs me, let’s go.”

“Sir, I advise not going forward. The contents may further relapse you into a state—”

“Or I could just do it myself.” Tony reached a hand, tapping the holograph lightly.

He wasn’t prepared.

_//_

Peter watched him in thought, legs absently swaying and palms flat on the desk he sat on. Tony arched a brow from his laptop, glasses at the tip of his nose.

“So?”

Peter equally raised a brow.

“Huh?”

“You obviously want to tell me something kid, and I’m here. My ears are working, and I’m just responding to some emails but I’m here.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Uh.”

Peter brought a hand to his chest, covering the ‘STARK Industries’ on his borrowed tee. He fiddled with the collar and bit his lip, darting his eyes at Tony.

Who could only stare now in worry.

“Should I be?” Tony just asked.

“Should you be…?”

“Concerned.”

“What….oh! Oh no,” Peter crossed his bare legs, cargo shorts and converse, and Tony had to look away for a second. “It’s just, well. I don’t know how to tell you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony squinted at him and Peter already knew what he was thinking.

”Did you try to—”

“No, I did _not_ try to override or switch any protocols on the suit.” Peter rushed out, almost annoyed. _“Again.”_ Tony squinted even harder, glasses now coming off and folding them up.

“I can only be impressed so many times before that face becomes mine, kid.” Tony murmured, and Peter smiled at him. “So, just spill it, whatever it is.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Okay, cool. Shoot.”

“I’m excited.” Peter threw, nodding. “I’m kinda nervous….first time.” Tony realized Peter was playing charades. He rolled his eyes, leaning his chin on his hand and Peter’s eyes crinkled at him sweetly. “Guess, Mr. Stark. I had never, uh, been to any one of these before.”

“University. NYU, MIT? They sent you acceptance letters yet?”

“No, no, that’s not for another two years—”

“Strip club.”

“What?”

Tony shrugged. “I was excited and nervous for my first time.” Peter watched him weirdly, slowly shaking his head.

“No, Mr. Stark….I. I got a _date._ ”

Tony stared. Peter stared back, expression slowly becoming giddy. He got off the desk, curls bouncing, and it’s like he couldn’t help it, or contain it—he beamed, all dimple and brown eyes.

”It’s this Saturday. We’re gonna go see a movie, maybe grab some food before we go but—uh, yeah, I wanted to ask you,” Peter walked to his desk, muscled thigh sitting on the corner. Tony watched it, feeling nothing but the heat at the back of his neck. “I was thinking maybe like, you could give me tips, or how should I dress. I mean, it’s just a date, not a formal or prom, so should I go casual? And Ned doesn’t know much about….well, he’ll say I’m fine like this…May will have me the whole day trying clothes, and I love her but-”

“MJ?” Tony could only ask.

“She won’t help.”

“No, kid, I’m asking…is the person you’re going on this date with…”

Peter looked at Tony weirdly for the second time. “What?”

“No?” 

“She’s gay.”

“Oh.” 

Peter leaned forward, faint blush and smile. “You know. Like me?”

Tony nodded, wanting to kiss him.

“And she’s my best friend, so.”

"Is it a best friend thing?”

_“Mr. Stark–”_

“I forgot, but you showed me a picture of her girlfriend, what’s her name—”

“Betty.” Peter nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, she’s—they’re awesome. Gets me kinda jealous, because you know, goals.”

“Oh boy, millennial lingo, my only weakness.”

“You know what that means, come on.”

Tony watched Peter ramble on how he was the smartest guy on earth but didn’t seem to know what ‘lit’ meant or that MySpace was defunct. The kid was something else, because sexy was the word Tony didn’t want to use, especially after a couple months back—

“Mr. Stark.” Tony cleared his throat when Peter edged closer, thick thigh sinfully tight against his shorts and an earnest expression on his face.

“Tell me know you know what thirsty means.”

_//_

Central Park at eight in the morning was already busy. Joggers, dog walkers, jogger dog walkers alike—Tony didn’t give a damn, actually, who saw. He knew had to pretend he did though.

“Hey, good morning, New York City. Nice chilly morning, perfect for a jog if you’d ask me, I fucking love how it burns—” Tony turned a corner, hiding by some shrubbery as Flash walked the opposite direction, having past him. His gradient navy glasses became fluorescent as they mirrored Flash’s Instagram live. 1,382 people watching and comments torrential like a stream. Tony flexed his jaw.

“Cut off the data, short off the wifi and access.” He muttered.

“By the way, to all of you that have not left my DMs since last night, yep. I _am_ single.” Flash got closer to the camera, sweat now visible on his upper lip. “Alex052 asks what happened, and why did you delete photos of y’all together….Well, Alex, I got cheated on and let’s just say the cumrag won’t be pulling that stunt with anyone else. As for my photos….deleted? Wait, run that by me again—”

 _Livestream ended_ flashed on Tony’s lenses. And that was his cue.

With a light tap on his chest, his nanotech began to sheath, multiplying at speed and in sounds of tiny metals tinkering and forming—Tony kept his eyes on Flash’s back, lower lip jutted and jaw tight.

“What the fuck, what’s wrong with my phone—”

A breeze, then a phone clattering brokenly on the floor.

Flash’s feet lifted from the ground, Tony grabbing him by the head just as the suit covered his face. “Flash Thompson.”

He was already screaming, the sound muffling into the iron hand as his legs were kicking frantically at Tony’s suit, arms reaching and clawing. Tony readjusted his grip, leaning close, white ion eyes glowing into crimson.

“We need to talk for a sec. You’re not busy, I hope.”

_//_

Peter sitting on a hotel room bed, sixteen, shirtless. His shy boyish smile at the camera.

Peter, in pleasure, knees drawn up to his chest. Same day.

Video.

“You’re cute, Parker. Who you thinkin’ about?”

Peter looked at the camera, hickies all over his chest. He shrugged with a smile.

“Not who. Just my internship.”

Flash turned the camera, rolling his eyes. “Dude, I get it, you’re in love with Tony Stark. Should I be jealous?”

He flipped the camera back over to Peter who was red, sitting up quickly with a as-if expression.

“Flash, what—”

_Video cut._

Photo.

Peter, smiling, puffy sleep-deprived eyes, Starbucks in his hand.

Flash, grimacing as Peter was kissing his cheek. NYU campus flag behind them.

Peter and Flash, shirtless in bed, Flash asleep and Peter looking at the camera with nervous excitement.

A video.

“Dude, how many years did we make today?”

“Two years, Parker.”

Peter fake gasped at the camera, eyes bright but quickly shifted to confused ones. “Why did you have to say it like that?”

He switched the camera to Flash, who was boredly reading from a textbook. “Because our professors don’t care about our anniversary, stupid.”

“Well, I do.” Peter smiled shyly at the camera before throwing a wink. “And I got you something.”

Flash looked up, annoyed, and the camera shook as Peter fumbled with something. Flash’s face cut right into shock.

“What the fuck—”

Peter turned the camera to himself, giggles and pink cheeks. “Do you like it?”

_Video cut._

Picture of Peter in women’s lingerie, in bed, half-lidded eyes at the camera.

Picture of Peter with a bloody nose. Flash gripping his hair with a proud grin.

Video.

“You went too far,” Peter was wiping his nose, splotches of blood stark on the tissue.

“You look like a bitch and now you’re acting like one? Come on, Parker. You said go all out.”

Flash flipped the camera to himself, all feral grin. “He liked it.”

“I’m gonna go home.” Peter said off camera. ““You’re drunk, how were you even studying—”

“You’re not going anywhere looking like that.” Camera shakes. Peter was angry and Flash was grabbing his arm.

“What—Flash, let go of me—”

“Its our anniversary and you think I want just one round? Stop moving—Parker! Don’t make me—”

“Stop—I said, stop!”

The video was twenty eight minutes long. The floor was the only thing seen. The audio captured a lot.

_Video cut._

Peter with a bouquet of flowers. He looked torn, the smile a little forced.

Flash and Peter in tuxes, making faces.

Peter sleeping, biomech textbook as his pillow.

Flash and Peter at the beach.

Peter with another bloody nose and swollen shut eye, passed out.

Video.

“F-Flash…please—”

_Video corrupted._

_//_

“Jarvis.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker. Your injuries have fully healed and require no further attention.”

“Thanks.” Peter stood in the hallway, alone and disheveled. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”

A moment. Peter looked up, pink-rimmed eyes and mouth parted.

“You can’t be disposed to say?”

“Correct, Mr. Parker.”

Peter nodded, fringe in his eyes and all pale. He stood there, staring at the ceiling. “Okay.” He licked his lips, curling his hands in his pajama sleeves before resolutely knitting his brows.

“Okay, uh, can you contact Mr. Stark then?”

“Of course.”

“Tell him I’m leaving the tower to um, patrol. That’ll I see him when I see him, and that thanks for everything.”

“Kid.”

Tony’s voice sounded computerized yet so real and there. Truth was Peter expected him to be already listening by the time he said Jarvis’ name. None of it surprised him, so he stepped forward, stern.

“You’ve been hearing me this whole time.”

“I have. You rather me not and just go ahead, mind my business as you think yourself back into your abusive relationship while I’m gone?”

Peter pressed his lips together before calmly blinking. “I liked the part where you said you’d mind your business.”

“No can do, kid.”

“I do it to you. I mind my business all the time. You’re always on some magazine or article with a new person, date—fling. I mind my business, Mr. Stark.” The sound of honking and whooshing air. Peter began to walk slowly, eyes distant and ears to the noise.

“I know this wasn’t the first time.” Tony finally said. “I know this wasn’t the second or the third. I know a lot, Pete.”

“I honestly don’t care what you know, Tony, please—” Peter scrunched his eyes, stopping. “I—where is he?”

“Jail. He’s currently being processed.”

“You can’t be serious.”

The door down the hallway leading to a small study opened and stepped out Tony still in suit. He touched his chest, metal fingers rapt and Peter narrowed his eyes at him, watching him de-form.

Tony stood, blue shades and casual wear.

“Why would I joke about anything right now, kid?”

“You don’t think I cant handle anything?” Peter bit, eyes hard. “That I can’t handle my own life, as fucked up as it is? Flash isn’t perfect, Mr. Stark, but I understand that, and me and him try to work with it. I— _Jesus_ , not everyone can be like you, and not everyone needs saving, especially me, okay? I’m not that same fifteen year old you met, with some stupid web-slinger he made during Chem—”

Tony made a sign for him to stop talking. Cut throat.

“When you can do the things I can do, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.” Peter swallowed, watching Tony raise a brow and tuck his hands in his pockets. “Right? Does that sound familiar to you?”

“I was fifteen, saying—”

“Smart and obvious things.” Tony finished, eyes on him. “Even then, Pete. I knew. I just knew I had to protect you.”

Peter breathed in, not meeting his eyes. “I’m gonna go.”

“No, you’re not.” Tony walked forward, cutting right in front of him. “You’re gonna stay here, talk to me, figure things out without that shitstain factoring in your life. You can get back to your apartment if you want, after a day or two. But I honestly prefer if you stay here for as long as you need, kid.”

Peter still wasn’t looking at him.

Tony sighed, taking a hand out of his pocket and putting one on Peter’s shoulder. The kid tensed, eyes darting to him warily.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Tony murmured, “Crazy thing is I have a deep gut feeling that you know that?”

Peter bit his lip and didn’t say anything. Tony squeezed his shoulder before suddenly pulling him easy and close, enveloping him into a hug that caught Peter’s breath and had Tony’s heart beating a bit faster than he was used to.

“Mr. Stark?”

“I wanted him dead, and I wanted to kill him.” Tony pressed his cheek to Peter’s hair. “I wanted to fucking kill him, kid.”

Peter shut his eyes. He let himself go slack and Tony breathed in sharply, hugging him tighter.

“You don’t know….you don’t know what I’d do for you, just say the word, I’ll just—”

“You’d become a murderer for me, Mr. Stark?” Tony could feel Peter’s lips move against his shoulder.

“No question.”

_//_

They somehow fell asleep on the couch in Tony’s room, the television bright and room dark. They had talked in murmurs, then yells, and Peter did it all through tears and curled up fists. He eventually came to letting his barriers fall, and Tony ruffled his hair like back then, telling him it would be all fine. It was done, taken care of. Flash couldn’t hurt him anymore in his alcohol binges, and Tony would be absolutely sure that would never happen.

When Tony woke up at midnight, neck hurting from sleeping awkwardly, he looked to see Peter already looking at him.

“We fell asleep.” Tony said.

“Yeah..figured that out.”

“Did you get everything you needed to get out your system?”

Peter blinked slowly. Then a unsure nod. “Think so. For now.”

“Good.”

Peter clenched his jaw, looking down at himself. The television washed his skin in white and Tony stared, unable to stop himself from feeling.

“Peter.”

Peter looked at him with a casual glance.

“You’re really pretty.”

Peter’s expression went from fake blank to intense fake blank. 

“Uh. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“But your poker face is really bad, kid.”

“I—okay—well, who made me do it in the first place–”

Tony chuckled and moved closer to him on the couch, landing a hand on his thigh. Peter tensed, unable to help himself, but he looked at Tony as he was already leaning, planting a kiss on Peter’s neck, soft but still electrifying and sweet. 

“Can we?” Tony murmured. Peter gripped his hand, nervous and biting his lower lip. 

“How about we, um…not talk?”

“I’m with that, that’s cool.”

“Cool.” Another kiss to his neck and Peter fluttered his eyes, feeling his heart pick up. “So cool.”

“Very cool.” Tony murmured against his adam’s apple. He bit down and Peter shut his eyes, a weird sort of moan slipping out his lips, and Tony was leaning completely over him now, hand palming Peter’s clothed dick that was hardening by the second. “This was what I meant by figuring things out by the way—”

Peter kissed him, needy and hard, and Tony opened his lips, letting the kid taste him and whimper when Tony’s tongue slid against his. It didn’t take long for Peter to reach over and grab Tony as well, massaging his hands approvingly at the size. Tony withdrew from the kiss, smirk and dark eyes and Peter was looking at him the same.

“I always knew you’d be big.”

“You imagined me, kid?”

“Guess I’m not the only one figuring things out.” Peter shyly smiled into another kiss.

// 

end


End file.
